


Kjære Even

by hygellig



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Emotions, Eventual Smut, Fluff, M/M, a little bit of fake dating, and isak is writing letters telling their story, but now even is gone, even was an art student, get ready, isak studies science, not slow burn at all
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 04:37:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11305833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hygellig/pseuds/hygellig
Summary: All the words you want to say?Say them. Write them. Shout them from the rooftops, Isak Valtersen. The world is listening.or;it wasn't Eskild that found Isak alone in a gay bar at 2am, it was Even.





	Kjære Even

_After_

_Kjære Even._

_You used to tell me that you see life as a movie. You look at the world and see it split into colour palettes, each blink a transition, feeling the soundtrack thrumming in your veins._

_Well, if life was a movie then I think mine would be split into two parts - ‘before’ and ‘after’._

_Before is life shot in every colour imaginable, brightness and volume turned all the way up._

 

_This is my after._

_After is after you._

_After is after you stitched my life together just to splinter it apart all over again._

_After is writing our story on a train that’s hurtling it's way towards you - but really, isn’t that what my before is too? We’ve always been waiting to collide._

_Anyways._

_Turn off the lights, turn up the volume._

_This is our story, Even Bech Næsheim._

_I hope you enjoy it as much as I did._

 

_Before_

Isak’s life revolves around threes.

Three hours - the amount of sleep he had gotten last night. And every night before.

Three minutes - the time it takes him to brush his teeth, three times a day.

Three seconds - the amount of time he had wanted to spend in this gay bar, when in reality it had been more like three hours.

So when he realised he had only ordered two shots, he had to have a third. And when a man in a suit and a shiny gold ring ordered him one more - with a side of a wink that made Isak’s stomach churn - he asked to make it three. And when he slid onto the stool next to him, he waited to hear his heart thump three times in his chest, so hard he thought the man could hear it over the roaring of the music, before pointedly ignoring him.

“Nice night, huh?” The man said, drinking in the sight of Isak instead of his glass of alcohol.

“Come here often?”

Isak snorted, downing the rest of his drink in one. Maybe his dating history - or lack of - was proof enough that he wasn't the best at flirting, but even he could have come up with a better line than that. He considered ordering another drink, but if it meant had to suffer through another word he would rather - well, he would rather date a girl, apparently.

He wasn't sure what he came here for, or why he kept coming back. It was like he was chasing something that was always just one step ahead of him. The music was too loud, the drinks too expensive, the lights too bright and tacky, and yet nothing could replace the feeling in his stomach he got when he was here. It was like standing at the edge of an ocean, knowing you could walk away or start swimming. One of these days, he wouldn't have to turn back.

Sometimes he thought it wasn't him chasing anything, but rather something chasing him instead.

A sudden weight of a hand on his thigh disturbed his thoughts.

“We could always… go somewhere quieter, if you wanted. To talk.” The man quickly added, leaning further in. It was wrong, it was all wrong. Isak didn't admit a lot of things to himself. That was the first truth. But what he did know was this: he liked the way some boys looked at him - the shame of it wore off long before the lust did. But this was wrong. This man was looking at him like he was hungry, his face distorted by the lights of the club, his skin cast in shadows that made Isak’s skin crawl. His cologne was too strong, his voice echoing in his ears. And that ring, that _ring_...

“Hey, baby! Sorry I’m late.” A voice in his ear said, arms around his waist pulling him into an embrace. Isak twisted, turning to see the face the voice belonged to, but a mixture of alcohol and the touch of the boy behind him caused him to nearly fall off his chair.

“I see you’ve started drinking without me. Did you order for me at least?” The boy chuckled, pulling Isak onto his lap, splaying a hand across his stomach to stop him from squirming.

“Just go along with it.” He murmured into Isak’s ear, his breath hot on his neck, his lips gently chasing the same spot. Isak felt his eyes flutter closed, resisting the urge to lean back into his touch.

He was too drunk for this.

Isak knew his face, should know his face - it was like when you saw an actor in a different film and your mind was chasing a name. This boy was familiar like that. His blue eyes and sharp jaw line adding up to a few beats of a song you had heard once on a long car journey and heard again the next summer.

“Oh I didn't… I didn't know you had a boyfriend.” The man beside him stuttered, brows knitted as he frowned up at the boy, his hand long since withdrawn from Isak's knee. His skin still burned where he had touched.

“Of course he does. Right… Fredrick?”

“Huh? Me?” Isak spluttered, nearly choking on the drink he was still nursing. He had long since forgotten if he was still on multiples of three. Either way, his entire body felt they way it did when the time was on a number he didn't like - on edge, waiting for that hand to tick so he could relax again.

“Uh, yeah. Right. I’m Fredrick. This is my boyfriend… uhhh...” Isak winced as soon as the words left his mouth. He could hear the boy’s smirk as he introduced himself to the man, leaning in to Isak as he reached to shake his hand. He could probably feel his heart beating frantically against his chest.

“Even. Nice to meet you. Thank you for keeping my boyfriend company while he was waiting.” His voice sent a shiver down Isak’s spine - his fingers trailing shortly after, making Isak's back arch.

“Do you want to get out of here, baby?” Even asked, his voice low and deep in Isak’s ear. He could feel his words settle in the bottom of his stomach, hot and heavy, burning like he had just taken another shot.

He was definitely far too drunk for this.

Isak had apparently forgotten how to form words so he just nodded, letting the boy guide him out of his chair and through the dance floor, his hand on his waist the only thing keeping him steady.

The cold of the night air almost forced him back inside, but his legs started walking before his mind even registered the direction he was going in. The boy - Even - had taken his arm from it's place around Isak, and the loss almost made him stumble.

“What’s your name? Your real name, Frederick.” Even asked, swallowing the ground next to him. Isak resented the way this boy looked like he was just out for an evening stroll, whilst Isak was basically panting to keep up this pace. _Fuck this guy and his long legs and nice hair and stupid eyebrows._

“Fuck off.” Isak huffed. He just wanted to leave, wanted to get away, wanted to _think._

“Huh. That’s unique. Where are your parents from?”

“I’m not gay.”  
“I haven't heard of that. Is it somewhere in England?”

Isak shot him a glance, and immediately wished he didn’t.

Even’s smile was crooked, one side tugging up more than the other as if even his body didn't know what to do with all it’s happiness. Isak wanted to feel that smile against his neck.

No, he didn’t - he wanted to turn and leave.

No - he wanted to bring this boy with him, wanted to feel his breath hot against his skin again, tangle his hands in his hair.

No - he wanted -

“Hey.”

Isak had stopped walking without even realising it, the bitter air stinging his fingers and toes like a reminder to run.

Even placed two fingers under Isak's chin, lifting his face to study his eyes. His thumb was resting dangerously close to the corner of Isak's mouth. He wanted to bite it. In the dark, Even’s eyes shone, the artificial lights from nearby stores casting his skin in a blue - pink - purple glow that made him look ethereal. Not that Isak was looking, of course.

“Are you okay?”

“Do I know you?” Isak responded.

Even studied his face for a second as if there was a puzzle there he was determined to solve before shaking his head no, taking a few steps back to distance himself.

“But.. you can if you want.”

“What?”  
Even nodded, indicating the basketball hoop in the park Isak had led them to.

“Let's play a game. For every one you miss, I get to ask a question.”  
“And what about if you miss?”

“Then you get to ask me a question.”  
“What if I don't care?” Isak regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, regretting the way they made Even’s face falter for a split second.

“Well, then I guess it's just going to be a boring time for you.”

“But…” Isak sighed, his breath hanging in a cloud between them, “there's no ball.”

Even shrugged, as if that was the most irrelevant thing he could have pointed out.

“We’ll use these.” He said, scooping up a handful of rocks from the ground around him.

“That's a safety hazard.” Isak grumbled under his breath, pulling his hood up tight around his head.

“To summarise your night -” Even started, dramatically counting on his fingers as he spoke, “you stayed in a gay bar drinking until past 2am, almost went home with a married man, pretended to be a stranger’s boyfriend, left the bar with that same stranger, and now throwing a rock is a safety hazard to you? I could be a murderer.”

“It’s not 2am yet, technically.” Isak huffed, picking a few _(one, two, three)_ rocks out of Even’s outstretched hand. He shivered when their fingers met, cursing his body for betraying him. This night was really beginning to feel like the start of a cliche movie. He really should stop drinking like this.

“Really? That's the most concerning thing to you out of everything I've just said?”

“Plus, you're not a murderer.”

“Oh really? Why not?” Even asked, raising an eyebrow.

Isak chewed his lip for a second, meeting Even’s challenging gaze before saying, “a murderer would be more aware of his surroundings,” and shooting a rock at the basket. He winced as it bounced straight off the metal, the clanging noise it made as it struck vibrating through his bones.

“Oh, he tried to be smooth!” Even beamed, rubbing his hands together - whether out of glee or the cold, Isak couldn't tell.

“Question one, for one million kroner…” Even said in his best game show host voice, “what’s your name?”

“Isak Valtersen.” He answered easily, leaning in to pretend to talk into the fake microphone Even had pointed at him.

“Nerd.” He grinned, watching as Even sunk the next shot, dramatically taking a bow before motioning for Isak to try again. This time he was lucky, but Even wasn't. Isak chewed the inside of his cheek trying to think of something he wanted to know. _Everything,_ he thought, _tell me everything._

“What are you studying?”

“I’m an art student.” Even replied, as if this was the proudest achievement of his life.

Of course he was. The one boy to pick him up in a bar would be a fucking _arts student._

He guessed that’s how he had seen him before - the art students always hung out in the same spot everyday, Isak must have noticed his face in the crowd. Although it was odd, Isak thought. Even seems like someone you would remember noticing. Nothing about him blended in, at least to Isak. But again - it’s not like Isak was looking. He bit his lip to stop himself from smiling.

“What? What is it?” Even asked, raising his eyebrow. Isak wished he would stop doing that, it only made him want to trace over it with his fingertips to straighten it out again.

“Nothing, just… I'm a science student.”  
“Ohh, rivals. I really shouldn’t be seen hanging out with you then, you're going to ruin my reputation.”  
“What reputation?” Isak snorted.

“You wouldn't know, science boy, you're too busy walking around in your lab coat to pay attention to anything else.”

“Oh, is that how it is?”

“Yeah, it is.”

There was a pause, a little beat of silence while the two boys regarded each other in the dark. Isak thought something had changed, but he just wasn't quite sure what it was.

“Okay then, Isak Valtersen.” Even said, clearing his throat. “Give me your best shot.”

The way Even said his name made something stir in the bottom of his stomach, like something being woken after a long, long sleep. He wanted to ask him to say it again, wanted to hear the way his tongue tripped over the syllables.

Isak cleared his shot easily, but Even missed, battering the metal board.

“Tell me a secret.” Isak asked.

“One time when I was five I stole a chocolate bar and felt so bad about it I went back the next day and hid enough money for ten in the store.” Even replied, not missing a beat. “Your turn.”

“I’m sorry, my mom told me not to hang out with criminals.”

“If you get this next shot you can call the police on me, I won't be mad.”

Isak narrowed his eyes in mock concentration as he aimed, ready to make the shot. He pulled his arm back, and -

Even made a sudden grab for Isak’s wrists, pulling them in towards his chest.

“I’m sorry, I can't let you do this. Think of my reputation.”  
“You're a danger to society.” Isak grinned, every inch of his skin singing where Even was touching him.

“Come home with me.” He breathed, and Isak felt every cell in his body come alive.  
“I didn't miss a shot, you can't ask me a question.”

“It wasn't a question.”

“I’m not gay.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Well you didn't ask me a question.”

Even laughed, and Isak realised that he would do anything just to hear it again.

“Look, it doesn't mean anything, Valtersen. Just… I live like five minutes away, and it's cold, and it's dark, and apparently there’s married men after you. You're a wanted man.” He smiled, nudging his arm as if they already had a super secret inside joke the rest of the world couldn't understand. “Plus, don't you want to see what sort of pretentious stuff art students have in their room?”

Isak sighed, tipping his head back, closing his eyes. Like this, he could hear nothing but the passing cars and his own heartbeat thumping in his ears. He didn't want to count it. Not right now, not when Even was standing beside him, close enough that if he reached up to brush his hair away from his face, his hands would brush against Even’s chest. That knowledge was exciting and terrifying all at once, and Isak wasn't sure which he preferred.

“Like a dark room in the closet?” He asked, opening one eye to look at Even.

“Oh god, yes, of course.” He grinned. “We’re art students, we wear the same three outfits. The more paint splotches the better.”

“Is there, like, weird abstract art hung up everywhere?”

“Obviously.”

“What about -”  
“Hang on a second, science boy, i'm not making fun of you having chemistry sets everywhere and drinking water out of beakers.”

“Okay, okay, but what about -”

Their laughter and words carried down the streets as they walked the short distance to Even’s place, the streetlights shining a little brighter when they passed by.

 

-

 

Even’s room was not what Isak had been expecting.

It turns out Even really didn't live far, and Isak almost regretted not pulling him into a side street, pretending to get lost just to spend a little more time with him. Almost.

But his room made up for any regrets.

The walls were a soft butter yellow, every inch of them plastered with drawings, little sketches, movie posters, colour charts. It was like Even’s mind, if it was printed out and stuck on a wall. A living art exhibition. Isak felt like he should look away, avert his eyes somehow.

“Arts student, huh?” Isak smiled, turning to look at Even appraising him in the doorway. He wondered if he looked like he belonged here, in amongst all the chaos. Wondered if Even was seeing him like how he could himself reflected in the mirror hung on the wall, or if he was seeing him through a lens, or on a canvas.

“Yeah. Well, film mostly.” Even said, his voice quiet.

Since they returned, Even had shed his loud, confident persona and was now retreating into something more reserved. Isak liked to think he was a man of science of logic, but even he could see how intimate this was - he was standing inside of Even’s mind right now. These drawing were emotions made physical. Anything he wanted to know he could probably find out by studying the walls. The thought unnerved him.

“So… this is your bed.” _Smooth Isak._

“Yes.”

“Where you sleep.”

“Usually, yes. I hear that's what people do with beds these days.” A grin slowly spread across his face, like an old film flickering to life.

Even’s smile was a living thing. The kind of thing people dedicated their lives to protecting, Isak thought. He wondered what it would look like immortalized on tape.

“Look, Isak if you’re uncomfortable I can sleep on the floor or something. I don't want..” he faltered, “I don't want this to be weird for you.”  
Isak shook his head, “no, no. Of course it's not, it's just…”

Just what? Isak felt like he was on the verge of answering another question Even hadn't even asked.

“It’s fine.”

And that was it. Even shut off the light, and both boys climbed into bed fully dressed. If Isak hadn't been so tired, maybe he would have objected. Maybe he would have appreciated the moment more, but as it is this evening had been so exhausting he was happy to finally get to close his eyes.

He had slept beside boys before, obviously. He had probably slept next to his best friend Jonas just as much as he had slept alone, but this seemed different. Dangerous, almost. He liked it. And that was just as dangerous.

And maybe it was the alcohol catching up to him, or maybe he was exhausted, or maybe this entire evening had just been a complete mess from start to finish - but Isak found that he couldn't stop laughing.

“What? What is it? Isak?” Even poked him in the side, only causing Isak to laugh even harder.

“C’mon, boys usually don't laugh when they're in my bed, what is it?”

Isak only had time to breathe “Fredrick” before he was laughing again - and this time Even joined him, their laughter rising together like a symphony to chase away the shadows before the silence settled on them again.

He wondered - what was Even thinking?

He wondered - what would Even think, if he knew what Isak was thinking? What would he say about the way he saw him, illuminated like a 90s indie film? What would he say about this boy whose life revolved around an axis of threes?

He wondered - what would happen if this time he decided not to walk away, if this time he decided to jump into that ocean instead?

“I’m not gay.” Isak said, for the first, second, third, time that night. He wondered, if he added up every single time in his life the exact same words had slipped out of his lips - would they be a multiple of three? A number that was whole, that felt right, or would they still feel like they were coated in barbed wire every time they slipped past his tongue?

“Sure. I’m not either.” Isak could almost hear the boy’s smile in the dark before he added, “Isak Valtersen.”

6 words.

His name had never made him squirm like that before.

His name had never chased him into sleep, ready to greet him again in the morning when he opened his eyes to a room full of movie posters and scribbled drawings pinned on every open space.

But then again, he had never felt anything quite like this before either.

 


End file.
